Sitting on the screened porch of the beach house where we’ve summered for 26 years, it feels like nothing has changed. As I type, I’m sitting at one end of an 8 foot table and my dad is at the other end, reading the paper. We both have coffee. Every once in a while, he silently pushes the paper to me - a ritual we have enjoyed together since I was in high school - and points to an article. There is no talking. However, it also feels like nothing has changed when you sit on the beach, or bike through the beach towns. And that’s the problem. As of this morning, around half of Dewey Beach’s restaurants (Starboard, Woody’s, Nalu, Hammerheads, Dockside) have voluntarily closed temporarily to help
Guys, not sure who needs to hear this - but COVID is not over. You may be over it. We may be over it. But it’s not over. New hot spots are emerging in other states, just as Delaware approaches 60% capacity at stores and restaurants and - praise be - salons. All eyes are on the school reopening plans which right now look a lot like a map of the US drawn by a toddler. And all we know is that we don’t know much. Still, our pediatrician told one of my chicks last week that COVID isn’t going away, so we need to learn to live with it - although “learning to live with it” looks different to everyone. We are learning to live with it by keeping a ziploc bag of masks in the cars, so we are never caugh
When I relocated here from New York in the mid-80s, Rodney Square was a block from my dad’s new office on Market Street (his old one was on Wall Street) and a few miles away from our new home. The only thing I knew about it was that it was rare to see a statue of a horse *only* on its hind legs — I had never heard of Caesar Rodney. They taught us about New York’s signers in New York; at the time, the only thing I knew about Delaware was that it was not too far from my aunt in Pennsylvania, and yes, I could have my own room. It is apparently an impressive feat to balance an entire statue on two thin equine ankles. I remember this because a year later, I went on a school trip to the Soviet Uni
Usually, the end of the school year is the start of the season of Summer Mom - she who takes much-needed break from worrying about nutrition and screen time and instead focuses on making sure the cooler is packed for the pool and she’s got a dishy novel to enjoy while the children are protected by lifeguards and happily enjoying junk from the snack bar. This summer? So far, at least at our neighborhood pool, there is no snack bar — too crowded, too much transferring of items between hands. We’re grateful that the pool has opened at all, but spaces for family swim time are limited and sometimes we can’t get on the list. It’s a bummer, because when it’s hot and you’re bored at home, there’s
Masks. Protests. Reopening. Riots. Graduations. Police Brutality. Social Distancing. Looting. Peaceful Protests. Summer Camp. Elections. Justice. COVID-19. Conspiracy Theories. Black Lives Matter. The safety of our children, the health of our parents, the wellness of our communities. THERE IS SO MUCH TO WORRY ABOUT RIGHT NOW. And it is all urgent and important at the same time. Here are Ten Things You Can Do - because we all want to do something to help: 1. You are entitled to your own opinions, but never entitled to your own facts. Now more than ever, take a moment to fact check what your cousin shared on facebook and the meme you saw on instagram — whether it’s about how a disease spreads
